Jawbone
by TheAmethystRiddle
Summary: House comes up with another scheme to mess with Wilson, one that doesn't go exactly as planned. House/Wilson fluff. Oneshot.


"Where does it hurt?" Wilson asked, feeling along House's jaw line.

"Ah- ow, right there." was the reply.

Wilson felt the spot carefully. "There's no breaks or anything." he finally concluded. "Are you sure…?"

"I don't know, the whole thing hurts."

Wilson sighed and started over, carefully pressing his fingers to the stubble on House's face. He tried valiantly to concentrate on what he was supposed to be doing, but his mind kept wandering back to what he was _actually_ doing.

"So how did you do this again?" he asked in an effort to keep himself from doing something… unmentionable.

"I, uh, tripped and hit my face on the side of one of the defibrillator carts. But at least I didn't break my cane." House waved the surviving staff animatedly.

"You tripped?" Wilson asked, suddenly worried. "Did your leg give out?"

"I just fell." House rolled his eyes. "It's not a medical emergency. Probably someone tripped me up as I walked by. Ow."

This last comment was directed at Wilson as he felt the side of House's face.

"I'm not giving you more pain killers, if that's what you're after. It doesn't seem serious."

House ignored him. "Wait, go back." He took Wilson's hand in his and pressed it to his face. "Right there."

Wilson sucked a breath in through his teeth. A silent breath. He pressed his leg to the side of the examination chair, relaxing slightly as the metal dug into his flesh.

Unfortunately, his actions didn't go unnoticed by House, who leaned a bit closer innocently and said, "See if you can see a bruise forming."

Wilson pressed his leg to the chair even harder than before, trying and failing to distract himself as he dutifully looked closer at House's face.

Suddenly House slipped (or pretended to) and fell forward and slightly sideways. Wilson's lips brushed House's cheek, and Wilson froze. House, however, didn't.

"Sorry about that," he said cheerfully, straightening. "I slipped."

"You should do something about this balance problem of yours," Wilson commented casually as he gave up on the chair to be any help and settled for shutting the clipboard on his thumb.

"Yes, well, that comes with having a bum leg." House shrugged. "You learn to adapt," he added almost philosophically.

"You're so full of it." Wilson gave House an exasperated look. "You're fine, House, go do something productive, like bother somebody else."

"Yeah. Okay." House hopped carefully down from the examination chair, landing on his good leg and only inches from Wilson.

They stared into each other's eyes for one, intense moment, and then Wilson broke the silence. "I hate you," he remarked.

"No you don't," House replied triumphantly. "Because if you did, you wouldn't still be hanging around."

"No, you see it's a very peculiar kind of hate that makes me feel responsible for you and makes me take care of you." Wilson paused, as if a revelation had struck him. "It's probably a disease, I should get it checked out." He started to leave, making quickly for the door, when House spoke.

"Who was it that said that there's a thin line between hate and love?" he asked.

"I don't know, but I'm not sure whether he's exactly right or just a complete idiot." Wilson narrowed his eyes suddenly and whirled around. "It was probably you, wasn't it?"

House shrugged. "I wonder just how thin that line is." He took a step forward. "Is it easy to cross?"

"Quite, from what I've heard," Wilson answered. "I wouldn't know, I've never done it myself."

"Really? Are you sure?" House asked, taking another step towards him.

"You know what line is easy to cross, though?" Wilson asked as if House hadn't spoken. House raised an inquisitive eyebrow, and Wilson continued. "The line between like and love. The line between friends and more than friends."

"So you admit it?" House asked.

"Admit what? I never admitted anything." Wilson took a step towards House, now. "I did… allude to certain… things, I suppose."

"Do I have to drag it out of you?" House growled, covering the distance between them with one stride and grabbing the front of Wilson's starched and ironed shirt.

"Probably," Wilson said. "Unless you have a better idea."

House glared at Wilson for one long moment, and then leaned forward and kissed him roughly. Wilson kissed back, opening his mouth readily to House's questing tongue. Wilson didn't dare break away for air, afraid that if he did House would stop kissing him. House must have felt the same way, because when they finally did break apart they were both gasping for breath.

"You can't do anything gently, can you?" Wilson asked.

"You still won't say it, will you?" House asked, ignoring Wilson's question.

"No. Say what?"

House shook Wilson by the front of his shirt angrily. "You ruined it, you know." he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a tape recorder. "I was going to tape all this, I was going to tape you coming out to me, but you wouldn't cooperate, so now- now-" House glared at him a little extra to get his point across, "-now I have to tape over it. What do you have to say about that, huh?"

"Porno's always good," Wilson suggested.


End file.
